


In the Dark

by akitsuko



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Coming In Pants, First Time, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26484628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akitsuko/pseuds/akitsuko
Summary: Edward's hand tightens on his hip, his fingers inching forwards towards his thigh in a way that might pass as unintentional were it not for their cramped quarters. And Oswald may not be the most experienced man in the world, but he knows intent when he feels it.Oswald and Edward are trapped in a wardrobe together.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 24
Kudos: 161





	In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me while I was at the supermarket yesterday and I just wanted to write some quick smut tbh. Trope-y goodness because I'm a sucker for tropes.

"In the wardrobe. Quickly."

"Wha- _ ah!" _

Oswald's squawk is undignified as Edward manhandles him - with surprising ease for a man of his build - into the large wardrobe behind him. He finds himself instantly tangled in a selection of musty, old coats, with barely the time to steady himself on his feet before Edward bundles in behind him, pulling the door closed and shrouding them in darkness. 

There's a small strip of light coming in where one of the wooden panels is loose, but it's only a small blessing under the circumstances. Edward's breathing is calm and measured, and Oswald can feel every exhale tickling the hair behind his ear. He listens for a moment, assuming danger, but after a few moments of silence he loses the fragile grip he has on his temper. 

"Ed," he starts, "what in the name of-" 

He's cut off when Edward's hand darts around to cover his mouth, the motion dragging the two of them closer together in the cramped space. "Shush," Edward whispers. "Someone's here. You want to get caught?" 

Oswald listens again but, hearing nothing, soon wrenches Edward's hand away from his mouth in annoyance. "So much for your brilliant plan," he scowls, although he does keep his voice down. He really doesn't want to get caught, after all. "I don't hear anything."

Edward covers his mouth again, hissing another  _ shush!  _ at him, and Oswald stills as he hears it - muffled voices, two or three of them, somewhere downstairs. His heart sinks a little, even as he belatedly realises that Edward's entire torso is now pressed along the length of his back. He resists the urge to wriggle. 

"They weren't supposed to arrive until tomorrow." Edward's voice is soft, barely there, huffed against his ear. 

Oswald tries to speak, a series of garbled sounds until Edward lifts his hand just enough. "So, what now?" he whispers. "Tell me there's an alternative escape plan, because I really don't want to be stuck in here indefinitely."

"Sorry, Oswald."

Without thinking, Oswald leans his head back against Edward's shoulder and sighs. "We could shoot our way out?" 

"Clean-up in a place like this would be a nightmare. Besides, you're already on the GCPD's radar. Best not to give them any further ammunition against you."

Oswald scoffs. "I'm always on their radar. But I see your point."

They wait in the darkness for what feels like hours. It's hot, stiflingly so; Oswald can feel himself starting to sweat in his three-piece suit, and the heat radiating from Edward's body behind him is not helping. 

He wishes he could enjoy this. Prolonged moments where he's able to be this close to Edward are few and far between, and so many of his private fantasies involve Edward pressed up behind him. Now that it's happening, he's too distracted by the uncomfortable position his leg is forced to maintain, by the faux fur of the nearest coat brushing against his nose, and by the unfortunate circumstances of their containment. The wardrobe might offer privacy, but it has no other redeeming qualities. 

So Oswald is more frustrated than anything else. Try as he might to think up a workable solution to their predicament as he listens to the voices downstairs, he can't. He's about to suggest storming out in a hail of bullets anyway, and to hell with the consequences, when the sound of heavy footsteps ascending the stairs reaches his ears. He tenses, involuntarily holding his breath, and almost squeaks as Edward covers his mouth yet again. 

Without thinking, he holds on to Edward's wrist, and he notices that Edward's other hand is resting on his hip. He closes his eyes in the safety of the darkness, and just for a moment he lets himself pretend that this semblance of an embrace has a more romantic foundation. 

It's sentimental nonsense, but sometimes he just can't help himself. 

Especially now, with Edward so tight against him that he can feel his heartbeat, the scent of his cologne filling his nostrils and the heat of him so tangible that it sears through his clothes. 

He shudders, and immediately his eyes fly open again. As close as they are, Edward must have felt it too, and he prays that it is dismissed as nothing. 

It turns out that there's no time for any embarrassing questions anyway, because the footsteps are getting closer. Not into the room, not yet, but out in the hallway, and then they stop at what can only be the doorway. 

If they want a chance at escaping unnoticed, they can't make a sound now. In the quiet and the dark, Oswald feels hyper-aware of every huff of breath, every creaky floorboard. He doesn't move a muscle, lest the wardrobe creaks too. 

But Edward. Edward's hand tightens on his hip, his fingers inching forwards towards his thigh in a way that might pass as unintentional were it not for their cramped quarters. And Oswald may not be the most experienced man in the world, but he knows intent when he feels it. 

Yet, there's nothing he can do without giving away their position. 

He licks his lips, daring to dart his tongue out a little further at the last second to brush against Edward's palm, and he feels Edward's exhale along the length of his spine. It's exquisite and terrifying. The tapestry of the situation they're in seems to have given him a boldness he would never normally entertain. 

The footsteps start up again, this time getting quieter, moving away further down the hall. Oswald forces himself to relax his shoulders incrementally, but Edward doesn't move at all. 

"Oswald," he breathes directly into Oswald's ear, barely audible, even against their quiet backdrop. "Are you…  _ enjoying  _ this?" 

Internally, Oswald panics. It sounds simultaneously like curiosity and an accusation. Part of him wants to launch into frenzied denial. Another part would rather hide behind snark and sarcasm, respond that he's  _ obviously _ enjoying this, and that Edward must be a fool if he really can't tell. 

He can't do either of those things, because Edward's hand is still firmly clamped over his mouth. 

Then Edward squeezes his thigh. It's a small motion, but it floods Oswald's system with arousal so suddenly that he reflexively jerks his ass back against Edward's crotch. 

_ Oh, crap.  _

He stills again, waiting for an awkward rejection that doesn't come. 

Instead, slowly,  _ painfully _ slowly, Edward grinds against him, and this time the huff of breath against his ear carries a hint of a moan. 

It sets something off in Oswald, something primal and needy. He turns his head as best he can to press his nose against Edward's neck, inhaling deeply and purposefully, while he tilts his pelvis back in encouragement. He can't bring himself to care about anything other than getting as close to Edward as possible. And the sound Edward makes as he pulls Oswald into him is positively delicious. 

The back-and-forth rhythm they establish is made up of tiny movements, constricted as they are by their hiding space, but it's still sinfully good. Oswald has ascended to another plane, delirious already, just this exchange of friction being far more than he ever expected to get. He struggles to swallow a groan when Edward shifts slightly, his erection unmistakable as it slots between his ass cheeks. And Edward's hand is still there, keeping him quiet, but his breathing is starting to sound laboured. Edward's, too. 

Edward's other hand moves from his thigh to trail up his chest, seeking his nipple through his shirt and pinching it. Oswald whimpers, torn between the opposing sensations and unable to rock into both of them at the same time. 

"I almost suspect that you're  _ trying  _ to get their attention," Edward mouths against his ear, lips brushing his skin. "Do you want me to stop?" 

Shaking his head, Oswald reaches back to grab blindly at Edward's suit, making sure that he doesn't try to put any unnecessary distance between them. It's enough of an affirmation for Edward, who starts to grind against him in earnest again, dipping his head to tease Oswald's neck with his teeth and tongue. 

Oswald feels as though his legs might give out. He's quickly becoming overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensation, his body responding greedily of its own accord, needing more of whatever Edward is willing to give him. He's not sure what has triggered this turn in Edward's behaviour, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He'll ride this out for as much as he can get. 

And it's making him dazed, that hot tongue tasting his skin, those long fingers continuing to play at his nipple, that cock (that he's  _ dreamed _ about) sliding against him through all their layers. Then there's the oxygen deprivation, where he's trying to take deep breaths through his mouth but he  _ can't  _ because of how Edward is restraining him. All of it, all at once, it's causing his eyes to roll back in his head, and he knows he's going to be replaying this memory during lonely nights for years to come. 

Then Edward's hand leaves his chest and it's sliding down, down, and it doesn't stop, until he's cupping Oswald's cock through his trousers. 

Oswald's shudder is full-bodied, and he grits his teeth as he tightens his grip on Edward, willing himself not to lose control completely. Everything other than this moment is irrelevant, because Edward  _ wants _ him, and that particular thought has his dick twitching against the pressure. 

He feels Edward's smirk against the side of his neck. "You like the idea of attracting an audience?" Edward's fingers curl, his palm rubbing at an agonising pace. "Well, that's too bad. No one is going to see you like this."

Oswald couldn't respond even if he wanted to. He can feel his body hurtling towards climax at a frankly alarming speed, and focuses as much of his concentration as possible on staving it off. It isn't easy, though, with Edward touching him so intimately, squeezing and stroking in such a way that Oswald is unable to resist thrusting wantonly into his grip. 

Edward continues to rut against him too. "No one but me. It may be dark in here, but I  _ will _ see you, Oswald. Sooner or later. I've… thought about it."

It's impossible to fight the haze of pleasure that coils in Oswald's belly. 

"I should have dragged you into a wardrobe months ago." Edward punctuates this with a firm bite to his jugular, twisting his hand around Oswald's erection at the same time, and Oswald is gone. He shakes and spasms as he comes, his legs going limp as the high eventually passes, no choice but to trust that Edward will keep him upright. 

He needn't have worried. Edward moves his hand away to snake his whole arm around his abdomen, keeping him close as he grinds his way to his own orgasm, and Oswald feels it happen in the stuttering of his rhythm. It fills him with a smug pride to know that his own body brought Edward to that climax, even with both of them still fully clothed. 

Their breathing gradually slows in the darkness. Edward finally lifts his hand away from Oswald's mouth, and Oswald works his jaw a few times as he loosens his grip on Edward's wrist. 

He's not sure what to say. He doesn't want to create any awkwardness by saying the wrong thing. 

He can't hear any footsteps or voices now either, but that could be because of the blood rushing in his ears. 

It's Edward who finally breaks the silence, subtly clearing his throat. "Well. That was unexpected."

Oswald nods. He can feel his hair brushing Edward's face as he does. "Unexpected, but quite welcome."

It's a risk. Now that he's coming back to his senses, he doesn't know whether Edward meant this to be a one-off encounter. Being the first to say that he wants it to happen again is a form of exposure, and it makes him feel unpleasantly vulnerable. 

But Edward tangibly relaxes against him, releasing tension that Oswald hadn't realised he was holding. "Agreed."

Oswald relaxes too, a giddy smile spreading unbidden across his face. "A change of clothes would be nice, though."

Edwards laughter is silent, but Oswald feels it against his back. "Yes. This… was not well thought through."

"So…" Oswald starts, more confident now that he and Edward might be on the same page, "Let's get out of here, and perhaps we can try again?" 

Edward pulls him closer, kissing the side of his head, and Oswald absolutely melts. "As soon as it's safe." 

So, for now, huddled together in the dark, they wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm too tired to check for any errors. Please leave me some love, beauts, I'm feeling a bit sad these days <3


End file.
